


Sleepover

by thoughtsappear



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bathroom Sex, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, i have a lot of feelings about yuri without otabek, otabek is 23 and Yuri is 21, otabek with glasses, smoking mentioned, this is set a few years in the future, what if otabek left skating before seniors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 09:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13245321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsappear/pseuds/thoughtsappear
Summary: In an alternate universe where Otabek never went to the GPF, he has a chance encounter at a party...





	Sleepover

**Author's Note:**

  * For [classicpleistocene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/classicpleistocene/gifts).



_At least I got you in my head ~ Hayley Kiyoko_

Otabek hates parties. He hates being forced to make a lot of small talk with a lot of people he’ll never see again. He hates standing with a drink in his hand like a lifeline, sipping at wine he doesn’t like, and listening to music he wishes he could improve. He hates when people smile at him and he feels a social compulsion to smile back, which seems to mean to them that they should come over and engage him in conversation. 

He checks his watch again, and time has hardly passed since the last time. He’s tempted to sneak out, say goodnight early, but his host has strategically placed himself parallel to the exit, so that Otabek will have to pass him in order to leave. They both know this is a deliberate move, one that serves as a clever but inconspicuous way to get Otabek to spend longer at the party. Otabek is slightly insulted by the move, as he knows the goal is for him to get drunk, make friends, hook up. Three things he is fully capable of on his own terms. 

JJ called him when he found out a qualifying final was going to be in Almaty, and they made plans to hangout while they were all in town. JJ is freshly married, and his mind is focused on the ice. Otabek wasn’t looking forward to it, but he’s kept so few friends from the old days, so when JJ invited him this this party, with friends of Isabella’s and a cross-section of athletes, friends and coaches. 

Otabek is facing the door while he talks to Isabella’s friend Mary, a sweet girl with long brown hair and red nails that match her lipstick. There is a lip-shaped stain on her wine glass. There is a commotion at the other side of the room, and they both stop to look. More guests have joined the party, and they stand in the doorway, greeting the other party-goers.

She returns to their conversation, but Otabek’s eyes are engaged with the new arrivals. A man with short black hair and sharp features, a woman with artificially red hair and possibly the most attractive person he’s ever seen. He says something to his companions, and tosses long blond hair over one shoulder. His eyes might be green or blue but it doesn’t matter. Either way, they meet Otabek’s from across the room, and they pin Otabek in place. 

Otabek does his best to follow the conversation with Mary, but his eyes keep drifting across the room to the man in the distance. He’s at a table with his two companions, and the three of them are talking and laughing. He nods at the appropriate places, laughs when she does, but he keeps on looking over her shoulder. 

He’s heard the term “eye fuck” before, but he never knew how accurate of a term it could be. They keep making eye contact, and the way he stares at Otabek, makes him feel exposed, and completely laid bare, and utterly ravished. It’s sexier than half the hook-ups he’s experienced in the last five years. It’s a game, Otabek will look over, and then he will look back, and they’ll tease and challenge each other before one has to break away. 

Mary finally gives up on their conversation, and leaves him at the snack table, and Otabek continues his game. JJ comes up behind him with a couple beers, and he wraps a loose arm around Otabek’s shoulders, hanging on with most of his weight. Otabek allows this, and lets JJ chat at him for a moment. Otabek does his best to follow along, and waits until JJ gives him a break in the conversation.

“Who’s that blonde guy over at the window?” he asks, pointing with his head. 

JJ looks, and grins his biggest, toothiest smile. “Oh Beks. No.”

“What?” Otabek is annoyed already with JJ’s reaction, and he swigs beer while he waits for an answer.

“That’s Yuri. Yuri Plisetsky,” JJ finally tells him after some goading. “Russia’s champion.”

Otabek can feel eyes on the back of his neck, and he hopes he knows who they belong to. He looks over his shoulder and catches penetrating Yuri’s gaze. Something about Yuri seems familiar, and Otabek supposes it should. A possible remnant from his skating days, perhaps. In the last ten years, he’s done his best to forget as much as he could, but there’s bound to be overlap. 

JJ looks over his shoulder at him as well, and Otabek watches Yuri’s expression sour. He turns his back on them, and JJ pats Otabek on the back. 

“Good luck, brother.”

==

Otabek gets involved in a conversation with JJ’s friend Leo about music, and he’s all but forgotten Yuri, until he finds himself needing to use the bathroom. He excuses himself, and makes his way toward the toilet on the deserted second floor. He uses the toilet, and he’s washing his hands and drying them on a plain white towel when the door opens.

He’s about to say something, “one moment, I’m just leaving,” when he meets the eyes of the entering party.

It’s Yuri. 

From this closer distance, Otabek can tell he has green eyes.

They are absolutely striking. 

His hair is long and loose, except for a tight braid around the crown of his head, showing off a multitude of piercings in one ear. His skin is porcelain, his bone structure immaculate, and his features are androgynous. It’s only in subtle movements, his height, the way he holds his hips, that he becomes male. He’s dressed in a slashed black shirt, tight jeans, studded belt, and leopard print sneakers. 

Otabek stares, and nervously pushes his glasses up his nose. Whatever he was gonna say is completely lost. Yuri is in the bathroom with him and they are less than an arm’s length way. At this distance, the eye fucking is very effective, to the extent that Otabek feels a little warm under his clothes. He swallows, and it sounds exceptionally loud.

“You’re really distracting,” Yuri says in English. His voice is deeper than Otabek expected, and his accent is thick. 

“I was just leaving,” Otabek replies in Russian, which makes Yuri’s eyes light up. Otabek makes no move to leave.

Yuri takes a step closer. He’s taller than Otabek by a few inches. Yuri sends Otabek a challenging look that he supposes is meant to look mean and intimidating. Instead it only makes Otabek want him more. 

Otabek has heard people talk about their bodies moving of their own accord, or of acting without thinking, but has never experienced it before, especially not in tandem with a relative stranger. He’s never met someone who could read his mind so easily. Otabek reaches up as Yuri reaches down, and suddenly, they are kissing, grasping at each other, trying to find an anchor. Yuri pushes Otabek against the bathroom counter, and he grunts at the sudden pressure against his legs. The kiss is too hard and they clack their teeth together. It’s awkward and messy. It’s the hottest thing Otabek’s ever done. 

They break apart, only for Yuri to lift Otabek up onto the bathroom counter. He doesn’t care that the counter is too small and he is in danger of falling into the sink. He reaches up and grabs Yuri’s face, his hand colliding with the jewelry in his ear, and locking into the hair behind it. Yuri’s tongue is in his mouth and his leg is over his waist and it’s so uncomfortable but neither want to stop. Yuri gets a hand under his t-shirt, and starts unbuckling his belt, and Otabek’s mind is reeling. Are we really gonna have sex in a strange bathroom? Yuri helps him off the counter and he breaks the kiss long enough to tug Otabek’s pants open. While Yuri is doing that, Otabek helps himself to the gorgeous expanse of Yuri’s slender neck.

“Wow,” Yuri says, a little in shock. He stills with his hand inside Otabek’s boxers, cupping his dick. 

Otabek pauses with his mouth on Yuri’s collarbone. He knows he has a large penis, and he’s used to people reacting. He waits for Yuri to feel around, and he can’t help but moan a little while Yuri feels it, strokes it, weighs it in his hand. 

“You’re so fucking hot,” Yuri finally says, squeezing his dick and kissing him again. Otabek takes the opportunity to grope Yuri back, grabbing a handful of that supreme ass in his tight jeans. Yuri lets go and drops to his knees. Otabek stares at him for a moment as he watches Yuri mouth at his hipbone and tug his pants down. Otabek reaches behind and grabs ahold of the countertop to steady himself in preparation.

_Bang Bang!_

Yuri jumps when the door behind them rattles. Otabek doesn’t know if the door is locked and he feels a pang of fear. They wait, holding their breath, eyes locked. 

The door bangs again. Otabek looks away, releases his grip.

“Let me in!”

It’s a muffled female voice. Yuri sighs and stands up. He stares into the mirror, wipes his mouth and smooths his hair. Otabek takes a second to gather his wits, and pulls up his pants and quickly fastens his belt. Yuri turns for the door as if he wasn’t just about to suck Otabek on a bathroom floor. His cool demeanor is as infuriating as it is refreshing. 

Otabek reaches for him, Yuri’s hand already on the door. He leaves his hand on Yuri’s wrist longer than necessary. He’s not ready to let go. 

“Meet me outside in about an hour,” he says. 

Yuri hesitates for the first time.“I don’t even know your name.”

“It’s Otabek.”

“I’m Yuri.”

“Will you come?” Otabek asks, even as Yuri turns away and twists the doorknob as his answer.

The girl outside knocks harder. “Come on assholes!”

Yuri lets out an exasperated sigh and flings open the door. “Calm your tits!”

He pushes aside the girl and disappears. She enters the room, and casts a glare at Otabek, who still needs a moment to catch up.

“Do you mind?”

Otabek shakes his head and rejoins the party.

==

An hour later and Otabek is ready to leave. He says goodbye to JJ and Isabella, throws his coat on and scans the room. Yuri is nowhere. Otabek shrugs, and heads outside, locates his bike and starts it up. He makes a slow pass in front of the house, and he is relieved to see someone outside. His heart races foolishly when he confirms that it’s Yuri.

He couldn’t have been waiting very long, but Yuri has a bored expression on his face. He’s wearing a black hoodie with a large tiger on the front and his hands are in his pockets. Otabek drives the bike up beside him.

“Yuri, get on.”

Yuri doesn’t hesitate, he flings himself on the back of the bike and wraps his arms around Otabek’s chest. Otabek supposes he should drive them back to his place, as that’s probably what Yuri expects. Otabek considers it for a moment. Anything they would do together would be little more than a one night stand. Otabek wants to spend as much time as he can with Yuri, as he knows there won’t be much. 

Instead of taking him home, he takes the bike farther, on his favorite winding roads, into the mountains. It’s cold, and Yuri squirms close. He flips up the hood of his jacket and buries his face into Otabek’s back. Otabek knows these roads well, and he takes the turns and curves of the road easily. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy the way a fast turn makes Yuri clutch extra tight.

When they get to the point of the mountain, Otabek pulls over. He jumps off the bike, and Yuri follows, giving him a confused look. He pulls the hood down, and combs his tangled hair with his fingers. He follows Otabek to the summit anyway.

“Do you remember a camp Yakov Feltsman had about 10 years ago?’ Otabek asks.

Yuri frowns. “I’ve been going to Yakov’s camps my whole life, how am I going to remember one over all the others.”

Otabek supposes he should have expected that. “I was going to be a figure skater once. I trained, I was going to save up the money for him to train me.”

Yuri says nothing, listens to the story as they both look into the city, with its twinkling lights and starry sky.

“There was a young boy in my classes. Blonde hair, green eyes, a foul mouth. Even then I knew he was going to go far.”

“I quit skating, decided to focus on school, and music. I traveled a lot, met some amazing people. But I couldn’t help but wonder what if I would have stayed.”

“You knew me,” Yuri says. “All those years. I’m sorry I didn’t remember you.”

Otabek waves a hand. “I grew up.”

“Yeah, parts of you grew more than others,” Yuri jokes, squinting down at him. 

They take a moment to stare out at the city, Yuri has his hands on the guardrail. If Otabek was smoother or if he hadn’t already had his tongue down Yuri’s throat tonight, he might slip a hand into his. It feels all backwards, having this conversation now, after they’ve already been more intimate tonight. He reminds himself, just because they kissed doesn’t mean they’re going to do anything else tonight.

Yuri is shivering. His hoodie is pulled tight over his head, and Otabek realizes how much colder he must be. Otabek is wearing leather, and many late night bike rides have made him very tolerant of whipping wind and biting cold. He leads Yuri back to the motorcycle.

“Where are we going?” Yuri asks, low into his ear as Otabek starts the bike.

“Do you want me to take you back to the party?” Otabek pauses with his foot on the brake.

“Hell no,” Yuri says emphatically, and Otabek chuckles as he gets the bike started and zooms out of the mountains.

==

He takes Yuri to his apartment. It’s an expensive loft in the outskirts of the city. Otabek has forgiving neighbors and his landlord is cool. He can keep a lot of his equipment there, and he is within walking distance of a fun record store and a coffee shop with late hours and good lattes. 

The pink In Yuri’s cheeks begins to fade, and he shrugs off the hoodie and makes himself at home. Otabek offers him a drink, and they sip gin and tonics from coffee mugs. Yuri wanders the apartment, studying Otabek’s belongings. He’s not shy, picking up Otabek’s family pictures to look at them closely, thumbing through his books, and flipping through records. 

When Otabek invites him up to the loft to listen to records on his bed, with a great view of the city, he holds out a booted foot, and Otabek bends down to untie the laces without a second request. He’s still taller than Otabek without them, but he loses a bit of his heaviness, and Otabek briefly recalls seeing him on the ice, jumping and spinning like he was beyond gravity. 

Yuri has grown a lot since the camp. He’s taller, he’s stronger, but there is a still an immaturity to his face that makes him look younger than he must be. He hides behind his hair, and he wears clothes that are too big, all things that make him look like a young boy playing at being grown up. There are also things that remind Otabek he must be in his early twenties. The piercings in his ears, the cut of his hips, the line of his jaw. Otabek offers him a joint, and after a moment’s trepidation, Yuri takes it, stretching out on Otabek’s bed like he owns the place. His limbs are long and he points his toes naturally. Otabek wants nothing more than to peel those pants away and taste Yuri’s skin.

They sit on Otabek’s bed, sharing the joint and listening to the music in the dark, the only light provided comes from the open window behind the bed. They lay side by side, staring up at the ceiling, not quite touching.

Otabek turns the volume of the music down a little, and looks over toward Yuri’s face. Because he’s lying on his back, Otabek can’t make out his features, and but he can see his lips move, and his adam’s apple ripple with each word. 

“I’ve never let myself think about what I would do,” Yuri starts. “If I wasn’t a skater. It’s all I know how to do, it’s all I am.”

Otabek feels like the proper thing to do is say something, discourage him from that line of thinking, but he remembers what it was like when he skated. How his body was his currency, how his talent was all he had until he had nothing else. 

“You’re not close to retiring.”

“Victor skated until he was thirty. I’ll beat that easy,” Yuri scoffs with a wave of his hand. “And after that, I’ll coach, or choreograph.”

He sounds so certain. The kind of certainty that comes with a life with no surprises, no mistakes, and no detours. Otabek is almost sad for him. 

He changes the record to something softer, and Yuri reaches over and trails a hand down his arm. It’s a light touch, just enough to set his nerves alive, and Otabek rolls to one side so they can face each other. Yuri makes the first move, kissing Otabek softly, removing his glasses with one hand. Otabek reaches over him to take them, pushing them aside to his nightstand. Once those are dealt with, they lean together, Yuri sliding a leg over Otabek’s hip. They kiss for a few minutes, letting the intensity build, until it’s almost to the frenzy they felt earlier in the bathroom. Otabek has a hand under Yuri’s t-shirt, getting a feel for his hip when an angry noise comes from Yuri’s pocket. It startles Otabek so much that he jumps and knocks his head against Yuri’s in the process. Yuri is laughing and cursing in the same breath. He digs around on the floor for his discarded hoodie and pulls out a cell phone in a tiger phone case. There is a large crack across the screen, but apparently it still works.

Yuri frowns at the caller id but answers. “What is it hag?”

Otabek can’t make out the words on the end of the line, but either she’s yelling at him or Yuri’s phone volume is cranked high, because he can hear her voice. Yuri winces.

“I got a ride,” he says. He gives Otabek an apologetic look. Otabek reaches for his glasses, the moment is lost. 

Yuri rolls his eyes, listening to the voice, which is still awfully loud through the small speakers.

“Fine, I’m sorry. I’ll text later! Good night!”

He doesn’t wait for a response and pushes a button on his phone screen, still frowning as he stares at it for a moment before shoving it back into his sweatshirt’s pocket.

“Didn’t tell anyone you were leaving with me?”

“I forgot to tell my friend and she thought I was murdered in a ditch somewhere,” Yuri sounds unfazed by the notion. “She still treats me like a little kid, but I’m old enough to take care of myself. I don’t need a babysitter.”

Otabek chuckles. They stare at each other for a moment, the sexual tension has disappeared, and the awkwardness of two relative strangers creeps back in. Otabek doesn’t want to be forced to make small talk with someone, but he also wants to know more about Yuri. 

“Do you have any food?” Yuri asks, digging his foot into the carpet with a shy smile. “I forgot to eat at that stupid party.”

Otabek nods, and leads him back into his kitchen. For the moment, talk is unnecessary as Yuri raids his cabinets and his fridge, and comes out with an assortment of items. For a professional athlete he certainly doesn’t care about how he’s eating. He’s gone for the few junk food items that Otabek allows himself. They sit on Otabek’s couch because Otabek does not allow food in his bed, no matter how attractive the person trying to bring it upstairs happens to be.

Yuri polishes off the food, making himself a happy little nest on Otabek’s couch. Otabek just keeps playing his favorite mixes, and they talk about why Yuri does or doesn’t like them. Eventually, he falls asleep with a couple wrappers in his lap, and Otabek doesn’t dare disturb him, so he simply throws a blanket over him and places his hoodie and phone in a neat pile on the coffee table.

The next morning, Yuri is in a hurry to leave. He calls his friend for a ride, before Otabek can even get dressed. Yuri seems uncomfortable and he frantically laces his boots, shakes out his hair and refuses Otabek’s offer of coffee and a shower.

Otabek knows better than to push, so he follows him to the door as he tries to leave. He was hoping they’d have at least a little time to spend together in the light of day, but it seems like whatever spell was cast over them the night before has faded.

Yuri fidgets and tries to hide in his oversized hoodie, he dodges Otabek’s glances and keeps pulling out his phone, checking it obsessively. All Otabek can do is watch.

“That’s my ride,” he says, pointing as a red car pulls up in front of Otabek’s building and honks.

“Yuri I...,” Otabek says, trying to figure out how he can say all he didn’t say the night before. 

“Thanks,” Yuri says instead. He smiles at Otabek and wrenches open the door. “It was fun.”

His words would be insulting if he didn’t follow them up with a short, seductive kiss. He pulls away with a little smirk, and stomps down the stairs to disappear into the car.

==

Otabek tries to forget about what happened with Yuri. He clearly wasn’t interested in anything more than a bathroom hookup and a place to crash. Otabek goes back to his old routine, keeps busy, works hard and goes on a few dates. None of them have the same spark, and he goes home alone each time. 

“Do you know how I can get in touch with Yuri?” he finally swallows his pride and asks.

JJ will give him shit for this, he’s sure of it. JJ is a sadistic bastard who seems to get his rocks off in making Otabek squirm. But JJ is also a completely whipped lovesick newlywed and his better half has done wonders for his mood and his tolerability. 

JJ is predictable. “Didn’t get enough of him last time?”

Otabek wishes eye rolls could be heard through the phone. “Do you have his number?”

JJ laughs into the phone, and it’s not mocking, it’s genuine. “You do realize that Yuri Plisetsky hates me with every fiber of his being and has for almost five years now? He won’t even let me follow him on Twitter.”

Otabek hates when JJ says things like this. He knows that Otabek hasn’t been in the skating world for years now, and he knows that Otabek tries to stay blissfully uninformed. It’s too easy for him to start thinking about what might have been.

“Can you ask around?” Otabek isn’t persuaded. Even if JJ doesn’t have Yuri’s number, he knows plenty of people who might. JJ has a surprising network of connections. He was at Victor Nikiforov’s wedding for some reason, and that man is like ice skating royalty.

JJ lets out a labored sigh, and Otabek knows he’s putting it on. “I guess I can ask Bella to talk to Sara.”

“Just get his number,” he says. Otabek has faith in JJ.

Three days later JJ sends him a text with no fanfare. No comments or his usual JJ attitude. It’s just a number. Otabek adds it to his phone, triple checks the number, and then spends all night trying to figure out if he should call or text. Once he decides to text, he then spends all morning composing the perfect text.

In the end it’s so simple, but his hand still trembles a bit as he hits send.

_Otabek: Hi, this is Otabek._

Yuri responds only a few minutes later.

_Yuri: Who?_

Otabek starts banging his head against the wall and considers pretending he’s got the wrong number and cutting his losses. He stops the banging when he hears his phone chime again. 

_Yuri: Just fucking with you. What’s up?_

==

A few weeks later, Otabek is trying to decide between two gigs, one in Sochi and one in Tomsk. There’s not much going for Sochi until he casually mentions to JJ he’s thinking of going there, and JJ laughs and says.

“You do realize that’s where Russian Nationals are this year, right?”

It doesn’t take much for Otabek to figure out that his trip coincides with the competition. A competition that just so happens to include Yuri Plisetsky as the favorite to take a second gold. He and Yuri have been texting casually since he got his number, but it’s been very sporadic. Yuri sometimes replies at odd hours, or not at all. Sometimes Yuri sends texts that sound like they’re meant for others, referencing events or people he doesn’t know. Otabek does his best to follow along. He’s learning more about Yuri even though the man offers very little information about himself. Otabek has come to understand that Yuri is very single minded, and when he’s prepping for a competition that comes on threefold. 

==

Otabek humbles himself just enough to ask for help getting tickets to Russian Nationals. JJ takes it as seriously as he takes anything, and lets Otabek dangle for awhile before saying he pulled some strings and got the ticket. There’s not much more JJ loves than being able to use his connections to get things. 

Otabek hasn’t been to a competition since he quit, and he’s deliberately tried to avoid the sport since he left it. He wonders if Yuri is really worth all of this trouble. He stands outside the ice rink for a moment, deciding he’s gone this far, might as well go a little farther.

Otabek pushes open the door to the ice rink and experiences a rush of nostalgia. He hasn’t been on the ice in almost seven years, and yet with just a few steps inside it’s like he never left. He walks up the stairs and finds himself a place to sit, on the end of a bench near the back. The ice is empty, and Otabek watches as the crowd quiets down as the first skater takes the ice.

Yuri takes this ice last. He’s wearing a simple costume, a tight black bodysuit accented with rhinestones and his hair is tied up in a sleek ponytail. The monochromatic color creates long lines accenting his graceful limbs, and the stones offer a subtle twinkle. The costume seems rather plain for someone like Yuri, who seems to enjoy brighter colors and bolder patterns. Yuri skates to the middle of the rink and poses, head bent, arms at his sides. Then the music begins and Yuri pops to life.

It’s not music he would have chosen for Yuri, or even himself, but somehow Yuri makes it work as if it was meant for him. Otabek hasn’t seen Yuri skate since he was barely a teenager, and back then it was through the eyes of a competitor. Now he is watching a young man, and he sees him merely as a spectator. Yuri builds up speed and moves into his first jump flawlessly, a triple axel. His jumps are strong and confident and he lifts both arms. His skating style is technically perfect but lacks feeling and passion, but there is a little a judge could find to mark him down. He takes off into a second jump, a combo of a lutz and a loop. His spins are tight and his flexibility is evident when he moves into an elegant Bielmann. The second half of the program is when Yuri really gains his footing. He does an impressive quad combo and then moves into his final step sequence. His moves are less restrained and more confident. He takes his final pose, a hand pointed towards the crowd, and Otabek could swear he makes eye contact with him across the bleachers.

Yuri looks serious as the crowd claps and cheers, but as he skates off, Otabek can see a hint of a smile in his expression. Two excited young girls in cat ears wait and hand him a bouquet of white flowers as he exits the rink. They shriek with happiness as he accepts them and poses for a brief photo. 

Otabek watches Yuri on the jumbo screen as he waits for his scores. His coach is none other than Victor Nikiforov, who is flanked by a japanese man in blue glasses. They fuss over Yuri who swats harmlessly at them both while he stares daggers at the score box.

It moves Yuri into second place and he looks relieved. As he stands up to wave at the crowd from the kiss and cry, Otabek swears they make eye contact again.

==

“We can’t keep meeting like this,” Otabek says, looking up from the bathroom sink to see Yuri behind him. He didn’t expect to see him so soon. He must really have noticed him in the crowd, since Otabek hadn’t told him he was coming. He was gonna try to play it cool, text him after the competition, offer him a ride.

“What are you doing here, stalker?” Yuri says. He’s wearing a team Russia jacket over his costume, and black boots. There is still a surprising amount of makeup on his face. Eyeliner and mascara, and his eyebrows have been darkened, giving him an intense look. 

“I’m a fan of the sport,” Otabek replies, looking at Yuri in the mirror. 

Yuri stares back at mirror Otabek. Neither breaks eye contact. It’s the game again, daring the other to look away. Otabek finally gives in. 

“Can I take you out to dinner to celebrate?” Otabek asks, turning to face actual Yuri instead of the mirror.

Yuri’s face falters briefly. “I don’t know what JJ told you about me…”

Otabek wants to reach out and touch Yuri, reassure him of what he really wants, but at the same time, he’s afraid that one wrong move will scare Yuri away. He does his best to look friendly. He isn’t about to force Yuri to spend time with him, but he also doesn’t want him to slip away so fast. 

Otabek reaches out a hand. “You wanna have dinner with me or not?”

Yuri stands up straight, and his face tightens up. He’s suddenly the untouchable punk. He looks at Otabek’s outstretched hand suspiciously, then accepts it, using it to pull Otabek out of the bathroom. “Only if we can have sex after.”

== 

Yuri vetoes half the restaurants in the city for various reasons. He finally picks something and rushes off to change, while Otabek waits outside for a car. They ride over is short, and they don’t chat much in the car. Yuri is sending texts and Otabek is pretending to do the same.

Once they arrive, Yuri spends an extremely long time searching the menu, and changes his mind several times. Otabek starts to think this was not the wisest idea, taking Yuri to dinner right now. Yuri is ruthless with the waiter, and makes a dozen or so modifications to his dish. He leaves implicit instructions on how everything should be cooked. No butter, no oil. Trim the chicken twice if you have to. Otabek gives the waiter an apologetic smile and orders their drinks before Yuri can make a restriction on those too.

“I’m not fucking up my diet,” he offers as an explanation. He’s much more buttoned up then the last time they met, and it shows in his demeanor right down to how he holds himself. His posture is rigid, and his gaze is focused. Even his hair and clothes appear to be prepped for competition. His hair is slicked back and gathered into a tight bun, his piercings are missing, and his shirt and pants are plain and neatly pressed. 

==

“Should we go back to your place?” Otabek asks. Dinner was awkward at times, but he’s not willing to let Yuri go just yet. He’s desperate to get another taste of the man who first caught his eye. Otabek pulls out his phone, waiting to get another car.

“Ugh no, my room is next to my coach and his husband,” Yuri starts, with an eye roll. He says the word husband like it tastes bad. “So I get to hear them fucking, and my coach’s husband just so happens to be named Yuri.”

“Oh Yuri, Yuri!” he says in a high pitched squeal. “It’s enough to kill my boner for weeks.”

Otabek starts laughing, and Yuri joins him.

Otabek knows enough about skating to know he’s talking about Yuuri Katsuki, Japan’s champion. The scandal when Victor Nikiforov left to coach him was big enough that even Otabek heard about it, years after leaving the sport. 

“My place then,” Otabek says after a beat. “It’s probably not as nice as the hotel you’re in...but…”

Yuri just shrugs and gives him a little smile. “Let’s go.”

==

“This place is nowhere near as nice as ours!” Yuri exclaims. He sits on the bed like he’s afraid of the duvet. Otabek is slightly insulted. He knows the meager hotel he’s paying for himself could never compare to the kind of place Victor Nikiforov would get for his star skater. 

Yuri realizes he’s being rude and he looks up at Otabek, who is standing in front of him, hands in his pockets.

“I’m sure it’s lovely,” Yuri says, and tries to relax on the bed. He unties his hair, and does his best to comb it out, massaging his temples as he does so. Having his hair so tightly pinned has to be uncomfortable. Otabek winces as Yuri pulls several long blonde strands out of his fist. His hair is so thick, several casualties are expected, but he still is sorry to see them go. Yuri looks up at Otabek in the act of playing with his hair. 

“Do you want a drink?” Otabek asks, mostly because it would be an easy thing to do. 

“I can’t,” Yuri says automatically. 

He’d already turned down a second glass of wine at the restaurant. Otabek ended up drinking most of it, and he’s glad red wine doesn’t go straight to his head like it used to. Meeting up with Yuri mid competition was a bad idea. Yuri seems so stiff, so uptight, and Otabek misses the freer spirit he met before. He misses the way Yuri made him feel. He’s not sure how to tell Yuri any of this without ending up alone and with Yuri angry at him.

Otabek moves to sit next to him, but Yuri slides off the bed and kneels in front of him. Otabek can barely react in time and does his best to process what’s happening. Yuri sweeps his hair over one shoulder and reaches for Otabek’s belt.

Otabek is stunned, and he starts shaking his head. He likes Yuri a lot, but he doesn’t just want a perfunctory blow job in a hotel room. He thought Yuri was joking about the sex thing. 

“No, don’t,” he says, helping Yuri up. Yuri looks stricken and embarrassed. He holds his hands at his sides, like he’s not sure what to do with them. He won’t make eye contact. 

“I don’t bottom before competitions,” he mumbles. He’s still fumbling with his hands. His nails are painted black. 

Otabek opens and closes his mouth. “I didn’t want you to...I mean…”

“We don’t have to have sex,” he finally blurts out. “That’s not what I want.”

“That’s not why you invited me back to your hotel room?” Yuri looks up from his hands. “I thought maybe you wanted to finish what we started in Almaty.”

Otabek thinks they started more than just a blowjob in a stranger’s bathroom, but he knows better than to tell Yuri this. Instead he gets into the mini fridge and hands Yuri a bottle of water.

“Let’s just relax,” he says. He crawls up on the bed and pats the space beside him. “I’ll order any movie you want. Get your mind off the competition.”

Yuri wordlessly joins him, picks the first movie that comes up on pay-per-view, a loud action flick that Otabek would swear kills brain cells just by being exposed to it. Yuri seems like he’s enjoying it though until Otabek gets up briefly to use the toilet, and comes back to find Yuri asleep with his arms wrapped around a pillow. 

Otabek’s not surprised when Yuri wakes up three hours later, and freaks out upon seeing the time. He shakes Otabek aggressively, snaps a goodbye and rushes out the door. Otabek spends the next two hours staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell he was thinking. 

== 

Otabek has to miss the final skate for his gig. He’s playing the largest club in Sochi. He still feels like he should acknowledge Yuri’s competition, so before the event is supposed to start, he sends Yuri a quick text.

Otabek: davai

Yuri’s response is surprising in how fast it comes.

Yuri: thanks.

Later that night Otabek checks his phone between sets to find that Yuri took gold. He skated a personal best. The picture accompanying the article is of Yuri on the podium, frowning and clutching a medal and bouquet of flowers. To the untrained eye, he looks serious and focused. To Otabek, he looks bored and completely miserable.

When Otabek wakes up the next morning, he has a text. It was sent by Yuri early that morning. Too early for someone who was supposedly up all night celebrating another gold medal.

Yuri: will you come to the exhibition skate tonight?

Otabek is supposed to be leaving that night. He’s supposed to be checking out of the hotel this morning, supposed to be leaving all of this behind. 

Otabek: sure

==

Otabek is eager to see Yuri skate one more time. He’s dressed more casually than his competition programs, and he is wearing his hair half pulled back in a tidy braid instead of a severe bun. Otabek watches as he calmly takes center ice and stares at the crowd. He isn’t smiling but he seems pleasant. It’s a fair contrast to his expression just one day before. Otabek hears his music begin and Yuri springs to life. 

He recognizes the song immediately. It’s a mix he was playing just a few days ago. He wasn’t even sure Yuri knew where he was playing, and he is not even sure how he got a copy of the song, but he’s too transfixed on what is happening in front of him to wonder about it. Yuri is energized, and he seems to barely touch the ice as he dives across, making hairpin turns and jumps and sliding around on his knees. Otabek turns to check out the crowd as he skates, and he is tickled by all the different responses. Most of the skating fans are screaming and cheering like they’re at a rock concert, and the professional skaters are trying to act like the don’t approve, but most of them seem to be enjoying the show. The officials and the judges appear to hate every minute. 

Yuri on ice is everything Otabek thought about him when they first met. He is charismatic, he is completely captivating, and he is incredibly sexy. When he takes his final pose he collapses on the ice in a barely there t-shirt and gasps as he tries to catch his breath. He takes his moment, and looks up into the crowd above him. He has an uncanny ability to locate Otabek in a crowd, and Otabek feels the exact moment their eyes meet, because he also feels undeniably fucked. 

==

Yuri comes off the ice completely elated. He’s flushed and his makeup is smeared, and his braids are coming loose. He bypasses the crowd of people waiting for him, and motions at Otabek in the crowd, shouting for him to come over. Otabek feels awkward, but security lets him through. Yuri looks so alive and so vibrant, that when he rushes Otabek afterward, Otabek simply accepts him into his arms. 

Nobody around them bats an eye at the stranger following the gold medalist. The silver medalist is starting his skate. Otabek feels sorry for the man to have to follow such a performance. He follows Yuri closely into a deserted locker room. 

He’s already pulling off pieces of his costume, combing tangles out of his hair, and there’s something so charming about how quickly the facade fades, that Otabek is completely disarmed. 

“Did you like the song?” Yuri asks, pleased with himself. 

Otabek smiles, opens his mouth to reply, but Yuri’s excitement takes control. He grabs Otabek by his jacket and pulls him close. Otabek lets himself be moved. This is the most passion he’s seen from Yuri since the night they first met. 

Yuri presses Otabek up against a locker and kisses him. It’s a sloppy kiss, almost too enthusiastic. Yuri’s skin is clammy, and he smells like clean sweat. He pulls away from Otabek and continues undressing like it’s nothing. 

“There’s a banquet after, you wanna come?” he asks, a hair band between his teeth.

Otabek stops to think about it. He has a flight leaving in a few hours. He has checked out of his hotel, he has no car. He’s not sure he wants to spend all night at a banquet with a lot of stuffy ice skaters. He’s not sure he wants to go home with Yuri for yet another late night sleepover.

He hesitates long enough for Yuri to notice. Yuri stares at him for a moment. Otabek can see the realization hit, and Yuri does his best to cover it up, but it was there. Yuri’s afraid he might say no.

“Only if it’s a date,” Otabek finally says.

Yuri’s face brightens and he pauses in pulling off his skates. He pretends to consider the idea. 

“Are you gonna finally let me finish blowing you?”

Otabek doesn’t say anything, but he points toward the back of the locker room, where he knows the showers and toilets are. The bathroom.

Otabek stays.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to voxane, softieghost, copperwings and outoffcks for their beta work on this.


End file.
